Alternative Fillings as
listed in the Margins of the Agenda
Praline, ganache,
crunchy frog
Coffee cream,
pineapple, ham hock
Polyfilla, putty,
Everbuild One Strike
Strawberry jam,
vanilla, Anything you feel like.
Timothys at it
again, this meeting as much as the last.
Reminding us of our
purpose in his opening broadcast.
We must not forget, he
says, what is most important in all we do
As if its likely
wed forget; as if it could be anything but true.
These are
people, he proclaims,
As if wed missed
it, somehow.
They have lives and
needs and wants, he tells us,
And we sit there and
take it, with nary a raised eyebrow.
And then out it comes,
as it always does,
When my mordant margins
are filled,
We must never
lose sight that were person-centred, he says,
As opposed to what,
though, is never revealed.
Positively
Perpendicular
Sideways Sam, they call
him.
For hes
perpetually shuffling into the side-alleys, the side routes,
The ginnels, the
snickets, and the twittens.
Not necessarily
short-cuts.
Very often the
long-cuts.
Because if theres
a straight line to be taken,
A main road or a direct
route,
Sams off on the
perpendicular,
90 degrees to the rest
of us,
And then 90 degrees
again,
As he tracks our
route
A full block
away.
As he takes in the
meanders,
As he avoids the
oncoming traffic,
As he keeps his head
clear.
Sam cant stand
the agony of the oncoming gleam,
Hell tell
you,
If you think him
capable of a straight answer.
And that goes for
headlights or glasses,
The look of the
steadily advancing pedestrian at the end of the road
The walk towards them,
at whatever speed he can manage,
The agony of not being
able to acknowledge them,
Even as its no
longer possible to deviate from his path,
Because we dont
acknowledge each other,
Because that is just
not done,
Even if youve
been avoiding each others eyes for minutes
Until that moment you
meet
And it would be such a
relief to say,
Ive been
watching you grow in my field of vision
For half a sodding hour
now
And thats too
much for someone to ignore.
Humans werent
meant to blank people for that long.
What the hell are we
doing to ourselves?
So Sam prefers the
perpendicular.
Hes happier that
way.
He says hes
positively perpendicular,
Which is fine for him,
Im sure,
As long as we
dont all give it a try.
Telepathic
Ted
It
is a mistake to ask Telepathic Ted why
Because
it proves that you do not know.
Because
it tells him you cannot read him, cannot hear what he can
hear,
Or
what he ought to hear behind your why.
But,
try as he might, he finds nothing there.
He
sees the badge, he sees the uniform,
He
knows youre asking because of them,
But
in your head, he finds none of your interest,
And
all of your lack.
There
is no voice there,
No
curiosity, no attempt to reach him.
And
yet Ted is telepathic.
He
told you that.
Because
he had to.
Because
you did not know.
He
is telepathic and he hears nothing from you.
Nothing of you.
And
so he doesnt need to tell you why.
He
doesnt need to tell you anything.
And
so he wont,
Right
now,
In
precisely the way he didnt need to tell the others.
Do-Do-one, Ron, Ron;
Do-Do-one, Ron
It was too late to learn the lesson that the
Rons dont care,
But Id lived a closeted
existence,
Before I even knew what that meant,
And this was my first round.
The beer, lukewarm with a dishwater
froth,
Was weaker than my resolve,
When Ron looked round the table
And picked on me as the next up,
Even though this was my first time,
And even though Id been
invited.
Your round, son, he said, filing
his tenners away,
Ill have half a mild; best see what
the othersll have.
And this despite me hardly knowing
them,
Because this was did I mention it?
my first round.
My first time with them, too, my new
colleagues,
My it was becoming obvious
temporary colleagues,
til I could find something
better,
Perhaps with people nearer my own
age
And financial limitations.
I spluttered a bit at the thought of the eight
of them sitting there,
As I ran the mental arithmetic I knew Ron had
performed first,
And I knew I needed to say something
About the unauthorised overdraft
And the likelihood of being turfed from my
place at the end of the month
And the rest.
And I might have said something,
Thin as the beer,
Frothed as its head,
About being momentarily embarrassed in the
moolah department,
Because I foolishly thought then that Rons
might care.
And he blinked a bit at my words,
And he shook his head and he
shrugged,
Because his rule book was clear on the
matter:
When youre up, youre up,
No matter what the consequences.
Because men like him
Which I, of course, must so very much have
wanted to be
Never talked about the consequences.
And thats when I should have told him
what really needed to be said.
Thats why, twenty years later, this piece
is titled as it is.